


The Dragon's Mate

by ZoeLunaJadyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Female Harry Potter, Soulmarks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 30,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeLunaJadyn/pseuds/ZoeLunaJadyn
Summary: 'Are you Ron's brother?' His soul mark read. Charles Septimus Weasley always knew his soulmate would be younger than him. For one, it didn't appear until he was seven. The other reason was that he was never Ron's brother. To Bill's friends he was Bill's brother. To Percy's friends he was Percy's brother. So, his soulmate had to be Ron's age.'Yes, Little One, I am.' Hers said. Holland Lily Rose Potter always knew her soulmate was older. He called her Little One, and that had to make him at least physically bigger.Or......What would happen if Fem!Harry and Charlie were soulmates, and Holly was alone when she delivered Norbert(a). NO LEMONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOLLY IS 11!!!!!!!!!





	1. Chapter 1-Author's Note

Hi. I know I haven't updated in a while, but school has been hectic. Anyway, I just realized as I was reading a fanfiction by mysecretthoughts, that this was pretty similar to their story. I just wanted to say that I had not yet read that story when I began this one, and any similarities are purely coincidental. 

Jade


	2. Chapter 2-Prolouge

olly Potter was a strange child. She was a quiet child, but she was smart, almost unnaturally so. Her long black hair always fell loose, covering her pale face, elven features, and big green eyes. Everyone said she was just a bit too beautiful, just a bit too odd, a bit too petite, and her eyes were just a bit too big and green. Her eyes were probably her oddest feature. They weren't the normal, average green, instead, they were a bright, forest green, too saturated to be average. And average was what her relatives strived for.

Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley tried so hard to be normal, they stood out. Neither adult had so much as a speeding ticket on their record, because 'being unlawful is freakish'. Petunia was a stay at home mother, because 'having a woman work is freakish'. Vernon had a company job, because 'taking risks with jobs is freakish'. No Dursley ever showed their soulmark, because 'showing a soulmark in public is freakish'. And, most importantly, they didn't acknowledge Holly, because 'shoving a unwanted freak off on it's hard-working relatives is freakish'.

 

Charlie Weasley didn't have the broad shouldered Prewett build, or the tall, lanky Weasley build. No, he didn't have either, he had both. Even as a kid, he towered over his brothers, who were all tall in their own right. He was bullied in Hogwarts for being large. The students all compared him to Hagrid, the lovable, but not very intelligent, half-giant who was expelled from the school in his third year. His only friend, other than his brother, Bill, was Nymphadora Tonks, or Tonks for short. She was also an outcast, because of her abilities as a metamorphagous, a witch or wizard who can transform their bodies at will. However, she wasn't in Gryffindor like him, she was a Hufflepuff. 

 

His family, contrary to Holly's, was large and full of love, but with so many kids, Charlie tended to get lost in the background. He wasn't the oldest, Bill, nor one of the youngest, Ron or Ginny, or even the twins, Fred and George, who had a tendency to be loud and act out to get attention. No-one really noticed when he got his soul mark, except Bill, his best friend. 

 

Hi. Welcome to my new story. Hope you like it!

Jade


	3. Chapter 3

_**I copied and pasted from the book for the first few chapters!!!! Thus, there will be some gender errors. Also, the first chapters were a request from some readers, so I added them later. THE ORIGINAL STORY BEGINS IN CHAPTER 15!!!!! If you would like to skip straight there, feel free.** _   


 

 

 

  
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.   
  
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere.   
  
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years;   
  
in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the   
Potters had a small child, too, but they had never even seen it. They didn't even know if it was a girl or a boy. This baby was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.   
  
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.   
  
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.   
  
At half-past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.   
  
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar -- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen -- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive -- no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.   
  
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt -- these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.   
  
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swoop ing past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.   
  
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the bakers. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.   
  
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their daughter, Holly"   
  
Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.   
  
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a daughter called Holly. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his niece was called Holly. He didn't even know if he had a niece. He'd never even seen the child. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. Or Hannah. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her -- if he'd had a sister like that... but allthe same, those people in cloaks...   
  
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.   
  
"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It   
was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"   
  
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.   
  
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.   
  
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw -- and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.   
  
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.   
  
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:   
  
"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since   
sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"   
  
"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."   
  
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...   
  
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?" As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.   
  
"No," she said sharply. "Why?"   
  
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."   
  
"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.   
  
"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."   
  
Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their child --it'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't it?"   
  
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.   
  
"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"   
  
"Her. Holland. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."   
  
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."   
  
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for   
something.   
  
Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of-- well, he didn't think he could bear it.   
  
The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought aboutnthem and their kind.... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over -- it couldn't affect them....   
  
How very wrong he was.   
  
Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat   
on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner ofmPrivet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.   
  
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.   
  
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.   
  
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in astreet where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."   
  
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.   
  
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."   
  
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead, he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.   
  
"My dear Professor, I 've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."   
  
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.   
  
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."   
  
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars.... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."   
  
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."   
  
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."   
  
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day YouKnow-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"   
  
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"   
  
"A what?"   
  
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"   
  
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"   
  
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.   
  
"I know you haven't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."   
  
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."   
  
"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them."   
  
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."   
  
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"   
  
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.   
  
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead. "   
  
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.   
  
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."   
  
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.   
  
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's daughter, Holland. But -- he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Holly Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone.   
  
Dumbledore nodded glumly.   
  
"It's -- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Holly survive?"   
  
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."   
  
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"   
  
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"   
  
"I've come to bring Holly to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now."   
  
"You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"   
  
"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter."   
  
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! She'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Holly Potter day in the future -- there will be books written about Holly -- every child in our world will know her name!"   
  
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?"   
  
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the poor dear getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Holly underneath it.   
  
"Hagrid's bringing him."   
  
"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"   
  
I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.   
  
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to -- what was that?"   
  
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.   
  
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.   
  
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"   
  
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got her, sir."   
  
"No problems, were there?"   
  
"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."   
  
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a   
tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.   
  
"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.   
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She'll have that scar forever."    
  
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"   
  
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give her here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."   
  
Dumbledore took Holly in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house. "Could I -- could I say good-bye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Holly and gave her what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.   
  
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"   
  
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead-- an' poor little Holly off ter live with Muggles -"   
  
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Holly gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Holly's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.   
  
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."   
  
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."   
  
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar, it rose into the air and off into the night.   
  
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.   
  
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner, he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.   
  
"Good luck, Holly," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.   
  
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Holly Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley... she couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Holly Potter -- the girl who lived!"

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another child lived in the house, too.

Yet Holland Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Her Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"  
Holly woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. Holly heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. She rolled onto her back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. She had a funny feeling she'd had the same dream before.

Her aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Holly.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Holly groaned. "What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door. 

"Nothing, nothing..."

Holly got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair under her bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Holly was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where she slept.

When she was dressed, in a second-hand turtleneck dress, she went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Holly, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise -- unless of course, it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Holly, but he couldn't often catch her. She didn't look it, but she was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Holly had always been small and skinny for her age. She looked even smaller and skinnier than she really was because all she had to wear were second-hand clothes, all turtlenecks and skirts, and Aunt Petunia always bought them large. Holly had a round face, elven features, long, brown hair, and bright green eyes. She wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only things Holly liked about his own appearance were a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning and her soulmark. She had had the scar as long as she could remember, and the first question she could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions." Don't ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Holly's soulmark, on the other hand, was the reason why she had to wear turtlenecks. It was on her collarbone, and she wasn't allowed to show it. 

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Holly was turning over the bacon. "Cut your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Holly needed a haircut. Holly must have had more haircuts than the rest of the girls in her class put together, but it made no difference, her hair simply wanted to be long.

Holly was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel -- Holly often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Holly put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell. "Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Holly, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally, he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

By this time, Holly knew better than to say anything when Dudley had trouble. The first few times she had done it, she got yelled at for talking back to Dudley, and was backhanded. Now, she didn't say a word unless directly asked. 

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Holly and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take her." She jerked her head in Holly's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Holly's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Holly was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made her look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though she'd planned this. Holly knew she ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when she reminded herself it would be a whole year before she had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl."

The Dursleys often spoke about Holly like this, as though she wasn't there -- or rather, as though she was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about whats-her-name, your friend -- Yvonne?" 

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

'We could leave her here," said Uncle Vernon, becoming purple in the face. 

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

 

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I suppose we could take her to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave the freak in the car...."

"That car's new, she's not sitting in it alone...."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying -- it had been years since he'd really cried -- but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let her spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I... don't... want... freak... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "She always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Holly a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang -- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically -- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Holly, who couldn't believe her luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in her life. Her aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with her, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Holly aside.

"I'm warning you, freak" he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Holly's, "I'm warning you now -- any funny business, anything at all -- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas, and you'll be very sorry."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Holly, "Honestly." But Uncle Vernon didn't believe her. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Holly and it was just no good telling the Dursleys she didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Holly coming back from the hairdressers, looking as though she hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut her hair so short it was nearly a bob. Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where she was already laughed at for her second-hand clothes and taped glasses. The next morning, however, she had gotten up to find her hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. She had been given a week in her cupboard for this, as well as a beating, even though she had tried to explain that she couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force her into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls), that she could wear over a turtleneck, so they wouldn't have to spend more money on a coat for her -- The harder she tried to pull it over her head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Holly. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to her great relief, Holly wasn't punished.

On the other hand, she'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing her as usual when, as much to Holly's surprise as anyone else's, there she was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Holly's headmistress telling them she had been climbing school buildings. But all she'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard when she was in less pain) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Holly supposed that the wind must have caught her in mid-jump. She got more punches for 'talking back'.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, her cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Holly, the council, Holly, the bank, and Holly were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

 

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Holly what she wanted before they could hurry her away, they bought her a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Holly thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond. That was offensive to the gorilla, though. 

Holly had the best morning she'd had in a long time. She was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting her. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Holly was allowed the GREAT HONOR of finishing the first. 

Holly felt, afterward, that she should have known it was all too good to last. 

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Holly moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself -- no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least she got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Holly's.

It winked.

Holly stared. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. She looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Holly a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time.

"I know," Holly murmured through the glass, though she wasn't sure the snake could hear her. "It must be really annoying." The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Holly asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Holly peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil. 

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Holly read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Holly made both of them jump.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE  
WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Holly in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Holly fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Holly sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past her, Holly could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come.... Thanksss, amigo."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.  
"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Holly had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Holly at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Holly was talking to it, weren't you, Holly?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Holly. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go -- cupboard -- stay -- no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Holly lay in her dark cupboard much later, wishing she had a watch. she didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. She was already in pain, both in her ribs and where Uncle Vernon had hit her once he recovered, she didn't need more pain. Until her relatives were sound asleep, she couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

She'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as she could remember, ever since she'd been a baby and her parents had died in that car crash. She couldn't remember being in the car when her parents had died. Sometimes, when she strained her memory during long hours in his cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on her forehead. This, she supposed, was the crash, though she couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. She couldn't remember his parents at all. Her aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course, she was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When she had been younger, Holly had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take her away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were her only family. Yet sometimes she thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know her. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to her once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Holly furiously if she knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at her once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken her hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Holly tried to get a closer look.

At school, Holly had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Holly Potter in her odd clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.


	5. Chapter 5

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Holly her longest-ever punishment. By the time she was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time  
out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches. Holly assumed that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had told the school she was sick or something. 

Holly wasn't glad school was over. Now there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Holly Hunting.

This was why Holly spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where she could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in her life, she wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Holly, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny. "They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told her. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Holly. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick." Then she ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said, and tell his parents she had been back-talking again. 

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Holly at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Holly watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Holly didn't trust herself to speak. She thought two of her ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Holly went in to cook breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. She went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" she asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if she dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," Aunt Petunia said. Holly looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," she said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of your old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Holly seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. She sat down at the table and tried not to think about how she was going to look on her first day at Stonewall High -- like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Holly's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. 

"Make Holly get it."

"Get the mail, Girl."

Holly went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -- a letter for Holly.

Holly picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to him. Who would? She had no friends, no other relatives -- she didn't belong to the library, so she'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Ms. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Holly saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, freak!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

 

Holly shoved the letter in her pocket and went back to the kitchen. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard and stood in the corner like always. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk." 

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still couldn't go on vacation with Piers and his family. Aunt Petunia couldn't bear to be parted from her Ikle Duddykins for that long. Holly thought on the letter again. It had asked for a response, and as ludacris as the contents seemed, she would respond, on the odd chance it was true. 

When Holly went out to see to her outside chores, she found an owl on the fence. Assuming this was the owl mentioned in the letter, she tied her letter to its leg and watched as it flew off into the distance, hoping beyond belief that this magic was real.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, the Dursley's breakfast was interrupted by a knock on the door. Aunt Petunia, annoyed at the prospect of an uninvited guest, opened the door. Standing on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive was a middle-aged distinguished looking woman wearing a pencil skirt and blazer. She smiled up at the horse-faced woman.

"Hello. My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am a professor at a very prestigious school, and we are interested in offering a scholarship to a child in your care." Minerva didn't know how comfortable these muggles would be with magic, no matter if they had dealt with it before, so she thought it best to take it slowly. 

"Oh, do come in," Petunia simpered. She stood to the side and held the door open to the older woman. As Minerva stepped inside, she felt disgusted. The house was done up in gaudy florals with lace accents and faux-gold finishes. The entire feel was very stuffy. As they walked towards the kitchen, Petunia began to ramble about her son. "My Dudders is so very gifted, I'm so glad your school noticed!"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Dursley, I'm afraid you are misunderstanding me. My school is interested in offering a scholarship to Miss Holland Potter," Minerva gently interrupted. Petunia looked shocked.

"Why would you take that girl over my Dudders?" By the look on Petunia's face, the idea that anyone in the world could possibly be better than her son was blasphemy. Minerva paused, shocked that the daughter of friends of hers, and her favorite former students, could live with such an awful woman. Looking around, Minerva noticed that there were no pictures of Holly anywhere in the house so far.

"I'll be blunt. I'm here to take Holly school shopping for her Hogwarts supplies." Minerva finally responded. Petunia's face quickly morphed to one of disgust.

"You are one of THEM, aren't you?" she spat. The older woman nodded, assuming correctly that she was referring to the fact that she was a witch. "Get. Out." Petunia growled, "GET OUT!"

"We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, putting in his two cents, "swore we'd stamp it out of her! Witch indeed!"

 

"You knew?" said Holly. "You knew I'm a -- a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Holly had gone very white. As soon as she found her voice she said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"But why? What happened?" Holly asked urgently.

"I'm sorry, Holly, this isn't the place. I will tell you after we shop," Minerva said, shocked to the core at how contrary this family was, "Go get your stuff, and let's take our leave."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. He was glaring at Professor McGonagall, and his fists were clenched.

 

"Now, you listen here, girl," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -- just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"

"Officer Potter was a far better man than you." Minerva rebutted. 

"Officer?" Holly asked. 

"Yes. Your father worked in law enforcement," Minerva said, "but now isn't the time. Now, please get your stuff, before I lose my temper with your uncle." 

"Haven't I told you she's not going?" said uncle hissed. "She's going to Stonewall High and she'll be grateful for it. And, I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. The professor whipped out her wand and pointed it at the kitchen sink. All of a sudden, the dishes it was filled with became snakes. "Now, Holland, let us get your stuff."


	7. Chapter 7

They stopped for breakfast in London. Both got eggs and toast, but Holly got orange juice, and the professor had coffee. Then, Minerva explained all about Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic. When they had finished, they boarded a train to Charing Cross Road. Suddenly, Holly had a horrid thought. 

"I haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon earlier ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

 

"Don't fret, Holly. Your parents left you a sizable inheritance," answered Professor McGonagall.

"But if their house was destroyed --"

"They didn't keep their gold in the house, Holly, dear. Our first stop is Gringotts. It's a wonderful bank." 

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just this one in England. It is run by goblins."  
Holly dropped the bit of sausage she was holding. "Goblins?"

"Yes. They are very clever and proud. It would be a bad decision to disrespect them." 

Holly followed McGonagall out into the sun. The sky was quite clear now and the Thames gleamed in the distance. Minerva looked at the small girl by her side and smiled. "Holly, would you get the supply list from your envelope?

Holly unfolded the second piece of paper she hadn't noticed when she had gotten her letter, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags 

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot 

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander 

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble 

OTHER EQUIPMENT

wand 

cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 

set glass or crystal phials

telescope set

brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN  
BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Holly wondered aloud. 

"If you know where to go," said the professor mysteriously.

"This is it," said she, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

 

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If McGonagall hadn't pointed it out, Holly wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Holly had the most peculiar feeling that only she and the nice professor could see it. Before she could mention this, said teacher had steered her inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The  
low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know McGonagall; they waved and smiled at her.

McGonagall led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. "Three up... two across," she muttered. "Right, stand back, Holly," she tapped the wall three times with the point of her wand.

The brick she had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing a huge archway, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said McGonagall, "to Diagon Alley." She grinned at Holly's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Holly looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into a solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yes, you'll get one," said Minerva, "but you will need money first."

Holly wished she had about eight more eyes. She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad...."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Holly's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Holly heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Holly had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.... "Gringotts," said McGonagall.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yes, that's a goblin," said the professor quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Holly. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Holly noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.

 

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Minerva and Holly made for the counter.

"Morning," said Minerva to a free goblin. "We've come to take some money from Miss Holland Lily Rose Potter's safe."

"You have her key, Ma'am?"

"Yes," said Minerva, holding up the key. The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order. I will have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. The professor and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

Griphook held the door open for them. Holly, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in and were off.

 

At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Holly tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Holly's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see what it was, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

I never know," Holly called to her Transfiguration teacher over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalactites hang from the ceiling, stalagmites come from the ground," the teacher explained. The cart suddenly stopped at a vault. They all stepped out. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled McGonagall.

All Holly's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from her faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Holy cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to her, buried deep under London.

Minerva helped Holly pile some of it into a bag. "The gold ones are Galleons," she explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Holly didn't know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money. She didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that she was holding more money than she'd had in his whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Uniform first, Holly," said Minerva, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. She looked at her watch. "I'll wait outside, dear." So, Holly entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, clear?" she said when Holly started to speak. "Got the lot here -- a young man being fitted up just now, in fact. "

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Holly on a stool next to him slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?" 

"Yes," said Holly.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting  
me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Holly was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Holly.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Holly said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Holly, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know  
I'll be in Slytherin, all our family has been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" 

"Mmm," said Holly, wishing she could say something a bit more interesting. She was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Isn't that old McGonagall? Why is she with you? Where are your parents?"

 

"They're dead," said Holly shortly. She didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Holly could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Holly, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Holly was rather quiet as she and McGonagall continued shopping.

"What's wrong, Holly?" said the elder.

"Nothing," Holly lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Holly cheered up a bit when she found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, she said, "Professor, what's Quidditch?"

She told said teacher about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

 

"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in. So what is Quidditch anyway?"

"It's a sport played on brooms. I'm sure a friend will explain it at school." 

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four."

They bought Holly's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Minerva almost had to drag Holly away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenge: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"You are not to use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said McGonagall. "Anyway, you couldn't work any of the curses yet, you'll need a lot more study before you get to that level."

McGonagall wouldn't let Holly buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on your list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While the professor asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Holly, Holly herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, McGonagall checked Holly's list again.

"Just your wand left to get then, and perhaps a pet." 

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Holly now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. 

"Just Ollivanders left now. That's where you'll get your wand."

A magic wand... this was what Holly had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Minerva sat on to wait. Holly felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Holly jumped. 

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Holly awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Holly Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Holly. She wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Holly were almost nose to nose. Holly could see herself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Holly's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...." He shook his head and then, to Holly's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Minerva! Minerva McGonagall! How nice to see you again.... Mahogany, 10 and a quarter inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said McGonagall.

"Good wand, that one. Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Holly a piercing look. "Well, now -- Miss Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," said Holly.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Holly from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Holly suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Miss Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Holly took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"

Holly tried -- but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Holly tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Holly took the wand. Nothing happened. Ollivander took it back. 

"How about......this one." Ollivander plucked another wand from the shelf. "Holly and dragon heartstring." Holly took the wand. Immediately, she felt a warmth in her body. The wand began to emit sparks of gold, blue, and black. Holly shivered. Ollivander wrapped up the box. Holly paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Holly and the Transfiguration Mistress made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Holly didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; she didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Holly's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when McGonagall tapped her on the shoulder.

"We have time for a bite to eat before your train leaves," she said.

She bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Holly thought it must look weird for McGonagall, a stately older woman, to be eating a hamburger. However, Holly kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Holly? You are very quiet," said Hagrid.

Holly wasn't sure she could explain. She'd just had the best birthday of her life -- and yet -- she chewed her hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," she said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents died."

McGonagall leaned across the table. She wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Holly. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yourself. I know it's hard. You've been singled out, and that's always hard. But you'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, as a matter of fact."

McGonagall helped Holly on to the train that would take her back to the Dursleys, then handed her an envelope.

"Your ticket for Hogwarts, " she said. "First of September -- King's Cross -- it's all on your ticket. You simply lean against the barrier between platforms nine and ten. You'll come out on the platform then. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with your owl, she'll know where to find me.... See you soon, Holly."

The train pulled out of the station. Holly wanted to watch Minerva until she was out of sight; she rose in his seat and pressed her nose against the window, but she blinked and the professor had gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Holly's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Holly he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Holly in her cupboard, force her to do anything, or shout at her -- in fact, they didn't speak to her at all.

Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Holly in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while. Holly kept to her room, with her new owl for company. She had decided to call her Hedwig, a name she had found in A History of Magic. Her school books were very interesting. She lay on her bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before she went to sleep, Holly ticked off another day on the piece of paper she had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

On the last day of August he thought she'd better speak to her aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so she went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. She cleared her throat to let them know she was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er -- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Holly supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

She was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Holly didn't say anything. "Where is this school, anyway?"

"Scotland," said Holly. She pulled the ticket Professor McGonagall had given her out of her pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," she read.

Her aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Holly asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Holly woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. She got up and pulled on her skirt because she didn't want to walk into the station in her witches robes, but that didn't mean that she couldn't wear the rest of her uniform -- she'd put on the outer robe on the train. She checked her Hogwarts list yet again to make sure she had everything she needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Holly's huge, spelled-light trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Holly, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Holly's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for her. Holly thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, girl. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Holly turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. It was a good thing that Professor McGonagall had told her how to get to the platform. 

At that moment a group of people passed just behind her and she caught a few words of what they were saying.

 

"-- packed with Muggles, of course --"

Holly swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Holly's in front of them -- and they had an owl.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

 

Suspicious, Holly sunk into the background, deciding to listen. If this family had so many children and were wearing robes, why was the mother asking what the platform number is?

 

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Holly watched as the boy ran through. He didn't even bother to be subtle. 

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His eyes, and those of his twin, were intensely sad, as their own mother couldn't tell them apart. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so because a second later, he had gone. This boy, though, had simply. swaggered up, and leaned against the wall.

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier, and he went through like his twin did. 

Once all of the redheads had gone through and after the mother looked around one last time, Holly walked forward and leaned into the wall. She fell but caught herself rapidly. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Holly looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. She had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Holly pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," she heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Holly pressed on through the crowd until she found an empty compartment near the end of the train. She put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave her trunk toward the train door. She tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice she dropped it painfully on her foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins she'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Holly panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Holly's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Holly, pushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes.

The twins obviously saw her scar, but tactfully, they didn't comment. They introduced themselves properly, and Holly repaid them in kind. They spoke for a few minutes, then a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

 

"Fred? George? Are you there?"  
"Coming, Mom."  
With a last smile at Holly, the twins hopped off the train.

Holly sat down next to the window where, half hidden, she could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mom -- geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.  
"Where's Percy?" said their mother. "He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves --"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once --"

"Or twice --"

"A minute --"

"All summer --"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term -- send me an owl when you get there." Personally, Holly thought it was blatant favoritism.

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two -- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've -- you've blown up a toilet or --"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls." 

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mum."

The train began to move. Holly saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Holly watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Holly felt a great leap of excitement. She didn't know what she was getting into, but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Holly. "Everywhere else is full."

She seriously doubted that statement, but she shook her head anyway. The boy sat down. Holly saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron." The twins were back. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Holly," said the other twin, "This is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.'

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you Holly Potter?" Ron blurted out. Harry nodded.

"Have you really got -- you know..."

He pointed at Holly's forehead. Holly was insulted. 

"It's none of your business." she proceeded to ignore him for as long as she could. 

"I've got five brothers," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff -- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

"Please get him away from me," Holly remarked. 

"Why?" Ron asked rudely, shoving the rat in her face.

"Because I don't like rats." 

Holly proceded to ignore him again. Around half past twelve, there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

 

Holly, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to her feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Holly went out into the corridor.

She had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that she had pockets rattling with gold and silver she was ready to buy a few chocolates, as a treat for herself. But the woman didn't have regular chocolates. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Holly had never seen in her life. Deciding to just get a few chocolate frogs, as they seemed safe, she paid the woman a few sickles. 

Ron stared as Holly brought it back into the compartment and sat down. 

"You have all that money, and you only bought four chocolate frogs?" he questioned. 

"Once again, it isn't your business what I do with my money." 

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef. Hey, can I have one of those? Thanks." he said, grabbing one before Holly could say anything and taking a large bite. 

Holly was really angry, but it would've been rude on her part to simply leave, as much as she wanted to. How could the twins be so different from their brother? The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

 

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Holly had passed on platform nine and threequarters came in. He looked tearful. "Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?" When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Would you like help finding him? I can go with you to talk to an older student?"

The boy nodded, and Holly stood and left with him. As they walked into the hallway, Holly introduced herself. 

"I'm Holly. It's nice to meet you!" 

"Hi, Holly. I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom. Are you Holly Potter, by any chance?" he asked shyly. 

"Yes," Holly said, steeling himself for the inevitable staring and kowtowing. 

"I don't know if you know," Neville began, looking even more nervous, "but your mum was my godmother, and mine yours...." 

Holly was shocked. If she had family, why hadn't they gotten her? But, she remembered then that Neville lived with his grandmother, so something must have happened to her godmother. "Well, I guess that almost makes us siblings, right?" she said hopefully. 

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Holly's stomach lurched with nerves as she and Neville stepped into the hallway. Now, she realized that they hadn't found Trevor yet. She hoped he would be brought to school as well. 

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Holly shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Holly heard a loud voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the giant man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Holly thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the man, who had introduced himself as Hagrid, called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Holly and Neville were followed into their boat by Ron and a girl named Hermione. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

 

The door swung open at once. Professor McGonagall was standing there, and Holly had never been as happy as she was now to see anybody before. 

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid. 

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Holly could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Holly nervously decided to plait her hair in an effort to look more presentable. 

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Holly swallowed. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?" she asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Holly's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But she didn't know any magic yet -- what on earth would she have to do? She hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. She looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified,  
too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Holly tried hard not to listen to her. She'd never been more nervous, never, not even when she'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that she'd somehow turned her teacher's wig blue. She kept her eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead her to her doom.

Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air -- several people behind her screamed.

"What the --?"

She gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance --"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Holly got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Holly had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Holly looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She heard Hermione whisper, " It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Holly quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia definitely wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Holly thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing -- noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, she stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, 

But don't judge on what you see, 

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

 

You can keep your bowlers black, 

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat 

And I can cap them all.

 

There's nothing hidden in your head 

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you 

Where you ought to be.

 

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true 

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Holly. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Holly smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but she did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. Also, she wished Ron would just go away! The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Holly didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for her. But then again, most people would probably be there. She supposed it wasn't how you felt at that moment, but how you comported yourself on a normal day. 

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Holly saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah. They giggled together, and Holly supposed they had met before, perhaps on the train. 

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

" Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Holly could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Holly's imagination, after all she'd heard about Slytherin, but she thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. She was starting to feel definitely sick now. Holly remembered being picked for teams during gym at her old school. She had always been last to be chosen, not because she was no good (in fact, she was much better than Dudley), but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked her.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" 

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Holly noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others, it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Holly in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. "GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned. Holly rolled her eyes. How had she managed to get stuck with him again? She had escaped him on the train, only to be stuck next to him in line. 

A horrible thought struck Holly, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if she wasn't chosen at all? What if she just sat there with the hat over her eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off her head and said there had obviously been a mistake and she'd better get back on the train? Even then, she supposed, the train had probably already left! Perhaps she would just be thrown out in the cold? No, Professor McGonagall was too nice for that. She would at least allow Holly to stay until the train could come back. 

When Neville was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with him. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon, Lilith" "Nott, Theodore" "Parkinson, Pansy" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil, Padma" and "Patil, Parvati" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last -- "Potter, Holland!"

As Holly stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?" The Holly Potter?"

The last thing Holly saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second, she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.

Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes -- and a nice wealth of knowledge, now that's interesting....So where shall I put you?"

Holly gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "I wouldn't put you there anyway. But Ravenclaw, though, you could do well there. But you don't want to draw attention to yourself.......no. Well, if you're sure -- better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Holly heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. She was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Holly sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff she'd seen earlier. The ghost patted her arm, giving Holly the sudden, horrible feeling she'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest her sat Hagrid. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Holly recognized him at once from the card she'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Holly spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Holy at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Holly crossed her fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Holly clapped with the rest politely, trying to look less disappointed as Ron collapsed into the chair next to her. She scooted over closer to Neville. "Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley, pompously across Holly as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Holly looked down at her empty gold plate. She had only just realized how hungry she was. The chocolate frogs seemed ages ago. Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Holly didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he -- a bit mad?" she asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Holly?"

Holly's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Saying the Dursleys had never exactly starved Holly would be kind, so she'd never been allowed to eat as much as she liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Holly really wanted, even if It made him sick. Holly piled her plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Holly cut up his steak,

"Can't you --?"

I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you -- you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy --" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So -- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable -- he's the Slytherin ghost."

Holly looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Holly was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding -- "

As Holly helped herself to a single treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed, but Holly didn't think it was amusing. What if Seamus' father ended up like the Dursley's? "What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me -- he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned -- but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced -- all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here -- they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad." The boy looked as if he was about to cry, so Holly grabbed him in a sideways hug. She thought Neville's family was stupid to not see how wonderful the boy was. She vowed to help her new brother. 

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing -- ").

Holly, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Holly's eyes -- and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on her's forehead.

"Ouch!" Holly clapped a hand to her head. 

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Holly had gotten from the teacher's look -- a feeling that he didn't like her at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" she asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to -- everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Holly watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at her again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

"He's not serious?" Holly muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere -- the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least." Holly thought he was very full of himself. 

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Holly noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, 

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

 

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now, they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing, 

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest, 

And learn until our brains all rot.

 

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Holly's legs were like lead again, but only because she was so tired and full of food. She didn't think she had ever eaten that much! She was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Holly was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves -- show yourself"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. "Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are." Once again, Holly thought his opinion of himself was rater high. At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. Soon, Holly and the rest of the first years would realize that Percy had taken them the long and roundabout way, cementing Holly's opinion of him. 

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it -- Neville needed a leg up -- and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase -- they were obviously in one of the towers -- they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. One each for Holly, Parvati, Lavender, Hermione, and Fay. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

Holly was going to ask Fay if she'd had any of the treacle tart, as she had the next bed, but Holly fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps Holly had eaten a bit too much because she had a very strange dream. She was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to her, telling her she must transfer to Slytherin at once because it was her destiny. Holly told the turban she didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; she tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully -- and there was Malfoy, laughing at her as she struggled with it -then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold -- there was a burst of green light and Holly woke, sweating and shaking. She rolled over and fell asleep again, and when she woke next day, she didn't remember the dream at all.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey guys. If you've been reading this story for a while, you know that I've kinda done it out of order. People are leaving comments about the story being exactly the same, so I'm going to re-publish the old story and then catch up to it. So, for now, there will be a huge gap between chapter six and chapter fourteen. Just warning you. Also, some things I talked about later, I decided to bring up earlier. So there might be continuity errors. 

Thanks for reading!

Jade


	10. Chapter 10

This is dedicated to the people who have read my story so far.

Jade

 

 

Holly would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if she hadn't been so worried about what she had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and she was a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because she'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of her way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Holly as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Holly covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it herself. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How she managed to get the crate back up to the castle, Holly never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as she heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another -- even one of Holly's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

Then a sudden movement ahead of her made her almost drop the crate. Forgetting that she was already invisible, she shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you --"

"You don't understand, Professor. Holly Potter's coming -- she's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on -- I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until Holly'd stepped out into the cold night air did she throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Holly did a sort of jig.

Chuckling about Malfoy, she waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, a broomstick came swooping down out of the darkness.

The rider was a very tall, very muscular, man with red hair. Holly assumed this was Charlie, so she asked him.

"Are you Ron's brother?" she asked. He looked shocked for a second, then collected himself.

"Yes, Little One." It took a second for his words to register, but when they did, she flew at him and wrapped her small arms around his much larger form. Charlie gave a warm chuckle and embraced her in return. He sat down, Holly on his lap. A few minutes of comfortable silence later, he laughed and said, "It seems I'm at a disadvantage here. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

Holly, now shy, as what she had done had just hit her, responded, "I'm Holly." The conversation seemed to flow from their lips. They spoke for hours about his dragons, and her school experiences and how they matched up with his. Charlie was thrilled when Holly mentioned being Gryffindor seeker, and began to entertain her with stores of his years on the team and what little Ollie Wood was like. Holly laughed really hard when Charlie began to talk about the ranks he and his best friend, Nymphadora Tonks pulled with her metamorphmagus abilities.

When Holly earned what a metamorphmagus was, she was really curious. "Once," she began shyly, "My Aunt Petunia cut off my hair to my shoulders because she said that with my hair so long, I looked like a beggar. The next morning, however, my hair was all grown back. Is that normal?" Charlie was astounded. His large chest rumbled as he spoke, and Holly was comforted by the now-familiar feeling.

"Not really. You could have some metamorphmagus abilities. Remind me to take you to Gringotts one day, so we can get that checked out." Naturally, Holly was confused.

"Isn't Gringotts a bank, Charlie?" She whispered, nervous that he would be mad at her for her confusion. Charlie chuckled, causing his back to rumble even more.

"Yes, but the goblins have very strong ritual magics, and they are the only ones licensed to do blood rituals," he explained. Realizing Holly might not know what blood magic is, he elaborated. "Blood magic tells you about things in your blood. Bloodlines you can inherit, abilities you have, family members you may not know about, stuff like that. However, blood can be very dangerous in the wrong hands. Blood rituals can be used for very dark things, like controlling a person. That's why Gringotts, and sometimes Saint Mungos, are the only ones who can use it."

Holly smiled, pleased with the explanation, and snuggled into his arms further. She was really tired. Surely there was no. harm in going to sleep for a few minutes, right?

Charlie woke her when the sun began to rise. He gave Holly a final hug, took Norbert, and flew off, waving. Holly barely remembered to put on the cloak as she walked back to the tower in a daze. He was absolutely PERFECT! She walked up to the Fat Lady and said the password with her mind hazy. She walked in and proceeded to her dorm room, where she collapsed in bed. She awoke, seemingly just seconds later, to Hermione shaking her awake. When Hermione questioned Holly about why it had taken so long, the latter simply replied that it had taken longer than she expected to get Norbert up to the tower, and she had to make several detours along the way to avoid being seen, or rather touched, as she was wearing the cloak. When she had gotten back, Hermione had been asleep, and she didn't want to wake her. Holly made no mention of Charlie, however. She had a feeling that that was better left unsaid.

 

It's short, I know, but there will be another chapter up, hopefully, today.

Jade

 

Hi again! I just did some major editing to this chapter, and increase the word count by 300 words! Thank you to the people who have read and commented! You guys are so awesome! This story has over 7K reads!!!!! A position for beta is still open!!!!

Jade


	11. Chapter 11

When Charlie had gone to pick up the dragon from Hogwarts, he wasn't really expecting to meet his mate. He had hoped, yes, but it was so surreal to meet her. His soulmate. His Holly. Charlie wasn't stupid, he knew she was Holly Potter, but she seemed to not want him to know, so he played along. She was so tiny, so pretty, so perfect. She was a seeker, just like him, and so smart. However, when she sat, back against his stomach, he could feel every single one of her ribs. While he had readily shown her his mark, she hesitated before pulling down the collar of her shirt, showing his words on her collarbone. Those things, along with he reluctance to talk about her home life (except for that one mention of an 'Aunt Petunia'), painted a horrifying picture for Charlie, who was already wrapped around Holly's little finger. His body was on autopilot thinking these terrifying thoughts while he flew back to the reserve. 

Dismounting, he was approached by his friends. "Mate, where were you? We expected you back HOURS ago!" Andrew questioned. 

"The flight took longer than expected," Charlie answered. He, inexplicably. wanted to keep Holly to himself. 

After releasing Norbert, Charlie fled to his hut to sleep, and dream about his beautiful soulmate. (Not in a dirty way, folks!)

When he woke up next, it was to the sound of an owl at his window. He groggily stood up and opened the window. The owl out there was a snowy owl, the same snowy owl that had delivered Ron's letter. Charlie deduced that it was Holly's owl, and the thought made him really excited. 

 

Charlie, 

This is Holly if you hadn't guessed. Last night, you told me I could write to you, and I decided to take you up on your offer. When I got back to Gryffindor this morning, Hermione (My best friend, Ron doesn't like her for some reason) started interrogating me on why I had taken so long. I didn't tell her about you for some reason. If you want me to, I can. 

Holly

 

Charlie was ecstatic. She really had listened to him! Not wanting to keep her waiting too long, he immediately began to write her, eager to assuage her nerves. His angel would never be nervous around him!


	12. Chapter 12

Holly was at lunch in the great hall when she got Charlie's return letter. Both Hermione and Ron were curious, knowing that no-one from home would write to her. However, Hermione was far more polite than Ron about her curiosity. She ignored it, knowing that if Holly wanted her to know, she would tell her. Ron, on the other hand...... "Who's that from, Holly?" he asked rudely, trying to look over her shoulder to read it, "Hagrid want us to go have tea with him again?" he laughed obnoxiously. Holly thought quickly. 

"No," she answered, "It's a friend of mine from when I was a little kid, that I just found out was a wizard. I wrote to him yesterday." Hermione was more curious now but still maintained that Holy would tell her when she was ready. Ron, however, tried to snatch the letter. Hermione swatted his hand with her hardcover copy of Hogwarts, A History which she probably had memorized by now. Taking advantage of Ron's distraction, and knowing that Hermione would probably lecture him for a half hour, Holly fled, unknowingly giving Fred and George a quick glimpse at the letter. 

Holly raced all the way to Gryffindor Tower, eager to read the letter from her soulmate. She practically yelled the password to the Fat Lady, Elizabeth, and flopped on her red four-poster bed. Faye Dunbar, who was braiding her long red hair, looked at her funny, but just shrugged and let it go. Holly ignored her and finally opened her letter. 

Holly,

It was so wonderful to hear from you. Norbert seems to be settling in well, which is a good thing. I also was interrogated by my friends as soon as I returned. Actually, I didn't tell them about you either. And no, before you start freaking out, I am not ashamed of you. You are just so special to me, and I want you to be my secret, Little One. 

-Charlie 

Holly was so glad to have a soulmate who already knew her so well. They had only talked once, but he already knew she would need reassurance. Holly didn't know it then, but that was the moment her crush on Charlie began.


	13. Chapter 13

Fred and George shared a meaningful look. They had seen the letter when Holly had raced by, and no matter how quickly she passed, they had seen the handwriting and the signature. The same handwriting and signature that belonged to their older brother. Charlie had some explaining to do. Fred and George had a free period after lunch, so they could discuss it then. In silent agreement, they turned back to their lunches. 

When they finished, they calmly stood up and headed to the common room. Winding up staircases and through secret passages, the twins made it up to the tower in record time. Climbing up the staircases to the 3rd year boys dorm that they shared only with Lee Jordan (who had Divination that period), they sat on their beds across from each other. Their beds were next to each other on one wall, spread apart a bit, and Lee's bed was between them on the wall across. 

They sat in silence for a moment, which, to most people who knew the Weasley twins, would be surprising. Fred broke the silence first. "If we talked to Holly about this, she would clam up and not tell us anything." George nodded, then continued with that train of thought. 

"With the way Ron was acting, he and Hermione don't know either, not that Hermione would tell us anything." This time, Fred nodded. 

"So, that leaves Charlie." Both twins nodded resolutely, and George grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill before moving onto Fred's bed. Together they composed a letter to Charlie, explaining what they knew, and demanding answers from their favorite brother (tied with Bill; Percy was a prat, and Ron was an idiot). 

 

Hi. This is a brand-new chapter and the first major plot changer. I hope you like. 

Jade


	14. Chapter 14

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Holly, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Holly passed Quirrell these days she gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and colorcoding all her notes. Holly and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me...."

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Holly and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Holly, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until she heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St --"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Holly, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy --"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it  
in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh --"

"See you later, then," said Holly. Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him, " said Holly.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Holly.

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earths Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So -- yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Holly. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone  
apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at her.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts - I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Holly and Ron beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout -- Professor Flitwick -- Professor McGonagall --" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell -- an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yeah -- yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Holly knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as she was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything -- except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Holly anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly. "Well, that's something," Holly muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Holly, sorry," said Hagrid. Holly noticed him glance at the fire. Holly looked at it, too.

"Hagrid -- what's that?"

But she already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin' , said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library -- Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit -- it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here -- how ter recognize diff'rent eggs -- what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't. "Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut. "Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Holly and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Holly another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing --"

"Shut up!" Holly whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Holly didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It was so pretty, Holly thought, it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes. All in all, it was gorgeous.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face -- he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains -- it's a kid -- he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Holly bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Holly, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Holly urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Holly's ear.

"Hagrid," said Holly loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to  
be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip. "I -- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Holly suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie," she said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No -- Charlie -- your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Holly sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Holly's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Holly, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The three of them put their heads together to read the note.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter -- I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love,

Charlie

They looked at one another. "We've got the invisibility cloak," said Holly. "It shouldn't be too difficult -- I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert." It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with her. Anything to get rid of Norbert -- and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey -- would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Holly and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me -- I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me -I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

Holly and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no -- I've just remembered -- Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Holly and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Holly told Hermione. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that. You should probably stay here with Ron to reduce suspicion. I'll just charm Norbert's crate."

They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage -- nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot -- jus' playin' -- he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Holly and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

 

 

Hi. Most of this chapter is directly from the book. Next chapter will be an original, and will be much shorter.

Jade


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning, Charlie awoke to sunshine streaming in his window and not one, but two owls carrying letters. One was from Holly, but the other was surprisingly from the twins. He decided to open Holly's first. 

Hi Charlie, 

Life has been amazing! Not only did I find my soulmate, you, but Gryffindor's been on a winning streak this year, both in Quidditch and in the House Cup. Slytherin lost 20 points the other day because Malfoy was out after hours. I told you about him, right? The super annoying blonde bully? Turns out, he overheard Ron, Hermione, and I talking about Norbert and tried to get us in trouble. He was the only one caught, so he got in extra trouble for 'telling lies'. He lost 30 more points, which puts Slytherin in final place in the House Cup. I should probably feel guilty, but he deserved it. Anyway, your letter came at lunch yesterday, so I had to tell on and Hermione it was from an old friend I just discovered was a wizard. Ron was actually really obnoxious about it. He tried to steal my letter and was really rude. He bullies Hermione, my best friend, and pressures her into doing his homework all the time too. I'm sorry to say such mean things about your brother, but it's the truth. I don't know if I want to be friends with him anymore. Anyway, I've been wondering, what exactly do you do at the reserve? 

-Holly 

Charlie was mad. Not at Holly, no, but at Ron. When he was younger, his mother had taught Bill, Percy, himself, Fred, and George how to treat other people, but as he got older, he realized that Ron and Ginny got special treatment. He understood why she would Ginny, because she was the only girl, but why Ron? While any of the older boys would be scolded if they ate like Ron did, he got away with it because he was Mum's little Ronniekins. 

He decided to write back to Holly first, reassuring her, before he opened the twin's letter. However, this turned out to be a bad idea, because the twins threw a bombshell at him. 

Charlie, 

Why on earth are you writing Holly? She ran out of lunch with a letter from you, and Ron and Hermione were fighting when she left. Holly is like a little sister to us, almost more so than Ginny, and if you hurt her, we will castrate you. 

-Fred and George

 

Thoroughly chastised, Charlie spent a few minutes wondering how to respond, before writing Holly again, and beginning the twins' letter.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning, Hedwig dropped another letter right into Holly's jam. Hermione, following her previous policy, and Ron, remembering Hermione's scolding, didn't question it this time, so Holly finished her breakfast before going to class early to open the letter. When she got to transfiguration, no one was there, even Professor McGonagall, so Holly sat down in her normal seat and opened the letter. She was shocked by what she read. 

Holly, 

I agree. That Malfoy prick got what he deserves. He shouldn't have messed with you, Little One. The reserve was created for a lot of reasons. My job here is to treat and rehabilitate the injured dragons we are sent. Other people deal with the endangered species of dragons that are placed here for protection, and still others work with the orphaned babies, like Norberta. I had to get a certification in healing and one in Care of Magical Creatures to be able to get the job. Also, Ron's been like that since he was a baby. Mum babies him and lets him get away with things we don't. If he does something, then tells her we did it, we get in double the trouble we would usually be in. He's a jerk, but I didn't want to say anything, because you were friends. Anyway, when you got my letter the other day, Fred and George saw my handwriting and wrote me a letter asking why I wrote to you. I didn't say anything, except to wait for you to approach them. I'll go along with anything you decide to say. 

-Charlie

Holly was pleasantly surprised at what Charlie said about Ron and so shocked at the fact that the twins knew Charlie was writing her, that she forgot to do badly on the Transfiguration exam that day. And the Charms test. And her Herbology quiz. By the time lunch rolled around that day, Holly had decided that she would approach the twins and tell them the truth after their next Quidditch practice. Pleased with her decision, she didn't notice the three teachers at the Head Table whispering to each other and glancing at her.


	17. Chapter 17

That night, after much debate, Holly pulled the twins and Hermione aside in the common room. Realizing that they hadn't really been introduced before, she made the introduction, not expecting what came next.

"Hiya Maya!"

"I'm Gred—"

"And I'm Forge."

"Hello, Fred, George," Hermione said, nodding at each one as she spoke their name, "It's nice to finally meet you." By the smile on her face, it was for more reasons than one. The twins pulled Hermione out of the room, and Holly couldn't bring herself to follow. If they really were soulmates, well then Holly and Charlie had done the same thing. As her plans for the evening had been successfully side-tracked, she decided to write to said Weasley.

 

Charlie,

That's so cool! Are you treating any dragons right now? Professor Quirrell still has that annoying stutter, and it makes it sooooo hard to concentrate in his class. Speaking of classes, do you have any idea why Snape hates me so much? Anyway, Fred and George found their soulmate today! It's Hermione! My best friend! I think they'll be very good for each other.

-Holly


	18. Chapter 18

Fred and George (her SOULMATES! EEEEK!) pulled Hermione into an abandoned classroom. They stood there, Fred and George facing Hermione, awkwardly for a moment, before Hermione broke the silence.

"My parents were going to name me Emma, you know, Emma Hermione," she laughed nervously, "but when they saw my soulmarks, they named me Hermione Jean instead. Because Maya can be a nickname for Hermione." When she had finished her speech, Fred and George stepped forward to bracket her on either side.

"It was the same with us. Our uncles had just died when we were born, so we were going to be named Fabian Cadmus and Gideon Dorian, but when Mum and Dad saw our marks, our names changed to Fredrick Gideon and George Fabian." After the three got their introductions out of the way, they began to talk, and talk, and talk.

Fred and George learned that Hermione's family didn't approve of her having two soulmarks, even though it wasn't that uncommon. (Identical twins shared the same soul, and therefore, the same soulmate), so she didn't really spend much time with them, causing her to burrow into books at a young age. However, this just isolated her more. And, to add salt to the wound, when she got her Hogwarts letter, her parents practically disowned her. This last fact angered the twins more than they had ever been angry before. How could anyone not adore their Maya?

In return, Maya heard all about growing up as a Weasley. How Molly ignored them all in favor of the youngest two, how Ron always pinned the blame on the twins, how Bill and Charlie practically raised the twins and Percy because their dad worked and their mother just didn't care. How they got into pranks because, if they were going to get into trouble anyway, it might as well be on their own terms, how Percy thought that if he was perfect, he would get noticed. How Bill and Charlie escaped the country as soon as they could to get away, sending pocket money home to the twins and Percy, that was more often than not stolen by Ron or Ginny. How none of the three ever told their older brothers because they didn't want them to worry. Fred and George told her that Bill and Charlie had said that their mother wasn't always like this, but they couldn't remember her any other way.

And when all of this was done, all three shed their facades and cried until there were no tears left.

 

I hope you enjoyed this update. I'm sorry for anyone who likes Molly, Ron, and Ginny, but they WILL be bashed in this fic. Arthur will be slightly bashed, only because he didn't notice what was going on. Sorry this took so long!

Jade


	19. Chapter 19

No matter how shocked Charlie was by the letters he got yesterday, this one shocked him more. Hermione, from what he had heard, was a bookish, play-by-the-rules type of girl, the opposite of George and Fred. But as he thought about it some more, he realized that maybe that was why the universe decided to make them soulmates. Maybe they would help each other more than anyone could know. And so, Charlie Weasley sat down and penned not one, but three letters he sent in two envelopes. The first to Holly, and the second containing the letters for the twins and Hermione. 

_Holly,_

_I'm so happy for the twins! They've been waiting so long for someone who can tell them apart without looking at their soulmarks! And I'm so glad it's someone you know! Have you cut ties with Ron yet? What do you mean? In my years at Hogwarts, Snape was the fairest teacher. He always gave people the punishments they deserved, no more, no less. That included Slytherins. Anyways, I'm proud of you for your accomplishment in Transfiguration. I am treating a Chinese Fireball currently, she was attacked by poachers. Her wing was shredded in the fight before the poachers apparently decided she wasn't worth it and ran away. She will most likely have to stay on the reserve permanently because we don't know if she'll be able to fly again. It's really sad._

_-Charlie_

 

_Georgie and Freddie,_

_Congrats on your soulmate! From what I understand, she'll be perfect for you, balancing out your rule-breaking with her rule-following. Maybe she'll also help you take more interest in your studies. Mum may not see it, but those of us who know you know that you are really smart. You just need some motivation. Well, here's another piece of advice: Your joke shop will be wonderful, but you may need to get good jobs right after school to pay for the start-up expenses. To do that, you need good grades. Think about that, and we'll talk more about it over the summer, yeah? Anyway, I understand that you might want to keep your soulmate secret, like Holly and I, so I won't tell anyone unless you give me the ok. I love you both, and I am always so proud of you._

_-Charlie_

 

_Hermione,_

_My name is Charlie, and I am George and Fred's older brother. I am so glad that you're their soulmate. I've heard so much about you from my own soulmate, and I think you balance out the twins perfectly. I don't know how well you know my brothers yet, but I have a few things about them that I think you should know. Firstly, George is older. Most people think Fred is because he is brasher and more out there, but that isn't true. George is also the quieter of the two, and he prefers Charms and Transfiguration because they are more precise. Fred, on the other hand, is louder. I think it's because he is younger, so he wanted to be bigger in personality. He enjoys Potions, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures because they are less structured. I hope this was some helpful information._

_-Charlie the Dragon Tamer_

 

**_ Hello all, and to those 90 people who just started reading, welcome! We have now added the countries of Egypt, Algeria, and Mexico to our ranks. Full disclosure, I started this book thinking, oh, I may get like 100 reads total. Now I have 15.1 K. It's amazing. Since like last week, I've gotten almost 5,000 new reads. And 1.5K of those were since yesterday night. (See the chapter about having 10.8K for reference.)  To a 14-year-old girl who wants to make writing a career, it means a lot. So thank you. Also, if anyone wants me to write this in really bad Spanish, I can try.  _ **

**_ On another note, at the end of Charlie's letter to the twins, he tells them he loves them and is proud of them. I personally don't have any siblings, but I think that probably isn't something most siblings do. However, Charlie helped raise the twins, and in this fic, their dad is always at work, and their mom just wouldn't tell them that. I just think that Charlie wants to make sure they hear it sometimes. Also, you may have noticed that in this chapter, George's name comes first. I think FredandGeorge is the twins as an entity and those that don't know them well think of them that way. But, the twins are two separate people, and Charlie acknowledges that. So, in Charlie's chapters, and later on in other characters, it will be George and Fred.  _ **

**_ Jade _ **

 


	20. Chapter 20

_Holly,_

_Is everything alright? You didn't mention Snape once in your last letter. What's going on? Anyway, how were exams? I bet they were awful. They always were when I was there. How's Ron? He never writes, and mom really doesn't know either, considering he never writes HER. Although, I assume you wouldn't know either, as, quite justifiably, you and Ron don't speak anymore. However, could you please ask the twins to talk to Ron about it? And if he doesn't listen, should you ask them to speak to Percy? Yes, the name Longbottom means something to me. If this is the person I'm thinking of, his parents were aurors. Just....please don't ask about his parents? Let him tell you himself, if or when he chooses. I'm glad you are making new friends, Little One. You don't have to be great friends with everyone, but my advice is to try to be friendly to everyone. Anyway, a new clutch of Short-Snouts just hatched here, and they are so adorable. Norbert is doing fine, but guess what? Norbert is NORBERTA! You can tell, because the females are more aggressive and their spines are longer. She's getting bigger every day! I think Hagrid would be happy know how she's doing. *wink wink* Just don't eat anything he gives you. He tends to forget that most jaws aren't a strong as his. Talk to you soon!_

_-Charlie_

Holly sighed after reading his letter. Charlie always listened to her complaints, but never mentioned his own life. Maybe Holly was just a distraction. Maybe his life was already perfect, and he was just humoring her? Yes, that must be it. There's no way a nice guy like Charlie would ever love a freak like her. She looked wistfully in the mirror that hung above the bathroom sink. The letter sat beside her, resting on the sink itself.  If only she wasn't so ugly, maybe Charlie would like her. She pulled down the collar of her turtleneck top (winters in Scotland were brutal), and peered at her now-blue mark. She felt more comforted, seeing the deep azure that perfectly encapsulated Charlie's eyes. Holly set her worries aside. She had more important things to focus on. 

She had gotten back some grades yesterday that made her uneasy. She had earned O's on every assignment that had been handed back. Reflecting upon it, she realized  that these must have been the assignments from the day Charlie had written her about the twins. She knew that she must have been distracted that day, but Holly desperately hoped that the teachers would ignore it and move on. 

Little did she know, that not so far away, Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick were about to meet about the same grades she had just been contemplating. 

Hearing a knock on her door, Minerva McGonagall, known in this conversation as simply Minerva, stood to answer it. When she saw who was on the other side of the door, she gave a genuine smile. "Fil, Mona, do come in! Would you like some tea?" Minerva asked her colleagues, Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout. As they sat down and got settled, Minerva served the tea exactly as they liked it. The three professors tried to get together every week to speak about what had happened with student's their concerns, and so on. 

Filius and Pomona settled in the cozy armchairs that flanked the roaring fire, and Minerva conjured a third to join them. This had become somewhat of a joke to the three of them. The first time they had met, Minerva had forgotten that there were only two chairs. She offered them up to her guests, meaning to get a third for the next week. Of course, as with all great plans, it was forgotten. Minerva had been so busy that week, it simply slipped her mind. This continued on and on, until eventually, Minerva realized she was never going to get around to it. Now, 30-odd years later, it had become a running joke. 

As she settled in, she mentally reviewed the subject she was going to bring up, however, Fil beat her to it. "Have you noticed anything odd about Holly?" he questioned. 

"Holly Potter? Well, now that you mention it, she got 100% on her quiz today. Normally she gets A's, or the rare EE." 

"Do you think she's cheating? The same thing happened in my class!" Minerva asked. 

"I don't think so," replied Filius thoughtfully, "she doesn't seem the type. Also, I charm my quills with a No-cheating spell, so she couldn't have." 

Minerva nodded."Yes, good point. I do that too, and it just slipped my mind for a second. But what could have caused this jump?" 

"Well, right after this, her grades went back down. Either she really studied for those few days, or....." Pomona began.

"Or.....she's purposely not doing well," finished Minerva.

 

**Hey guys.  Leave comments as a belated birthday gift!**

**Jade**

 


	21. Chapter 21

Having reached that conclusion, the main question was.......

 "Why?" asked Pomona, speaking the word that both her colleagues were thinking, "Why would a girl that bright, feel the need to seem less so?" 

"It's almost as if she was TOLD to act that way. But who would ask a young child to purposely sabotage themselves?" questioned Filius. 

"The Dursleys," Minerva whispered under her breath, "The Dursleys!" she repeated, louder this time. 

"And....just who ARE the Dursleys, Minnie?" spoke Filius, not quite understanding. 

"Holly's relatives. They're who she was sent to live with, 10 years ago. I watched them that day," she paused, glancing at Pomona, who had begun to giggle, "Oh, do be quiet, Mona dear. Anyway, I watched them knowing that that was where Holly would go, and they were just dreadful! I didn't want Holly to go there, but Albus insisted." 

Filius considered this information for a moment before he spoke. "Do they have any children?" Minerva nodded. 

"Yes. A small boy. When I watched, I saw him kicking his mother, and begging for sweets." 

"What did she do?" cried Pomona, horrified. 

"She gave him sweets. And when he asked for more....." 

"She gave him more." Filius realized, horrified, "And if he wasn't intelligent....."

"Perhaps they didn't let her show her intellect," concluded Pomona. 

Having reached this conclusion, they began to speak of what to do now. After a little debate, they decided to call Holly to Minerva's office the next morning, where all of them would be waiting.  Pomona was against the plan, believing that having all three of them there would be overly stressful. However, it was pointed out that perhaps she would only try in Minerva's class, if only she approached her. If she saw that three teachers were in on it, maybe she would focus on all classes. They could only hope. 

 


End file.
